


It's How You Tell It

by Ononymous



Series: Father's Day/Asgore Week 2019 [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Pre-Undertale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 00:16:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19239979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ononymous/pseuds/Ononymous
Summary: Long before the war with humanity, a secret was formed, and a promise to keep it made. A promise kept and passed through the centuries.





	It's How You Tell It

The peaceful stillness of the moonlit night was suddenly shattered by a long, low moan of an almost forgotten door being used for the first time in living memory, the rust protesting this disturbance. The stillness tried to reassert itself, but instead fell prey to an ambush as the moan returned, the capstone being a metallic clang. And yet no guard in the castle moved to investigate the disturbance. No bedroom door dramatically flung open to find out what was going on. The guards had been ordered not to intervene, and the doors of any who might query the noise had been magically soundproofed. Only those who needed to hear the noise had heard it. Those who may have needed to know remained ignorant.

Now the only noise from the stairs leading to the ancient door were two sets of footsteps. One was light, unburdened yet cautious, as though the next step would invite disaster. The other was more confident, accompanied by a metallic clank of armour moving this way and that way. A light announced the imminent arrival of the walkers, and two tall figures stepped into the torchlit hall. A fire in one's hand cast horned shadows onto a nearby purple tapestry.

"The deed is done, Prince," said the taller monster, letting the flame he held vanish. "No one need know."

The prince traced the slight curvature of his horns unconsciously, the golden wisp of hair rooted upon his chin looking frayed from worry. "But what if someone finds out, Dovah?"

"Aslaud," said Dovah, shaking his firey mane of hair, "I appreciate your fears. The consequences of uncovering this secret are dire and grave. But rest assured, sire. The guards have pledged never to speak of our actions this night. They know I will be around to ensure they remain silent. We cleaned the scene ourselves, and my fire swept any remnants aside. The only way the Queen or the Kingdom learn of this is if we speak of it. We can take this secret to our graves."

"I suppose..." Prince Aslaud looked this way and that, as though expecting to be surrounded by guards at any moment. His ears flopped with each twitch of his head, gently patting his bare muzzle.

"You don't look very reassured, Prince. What's the matter?"

Orange eyes looked around, desperate to locate the words. "It's just... Doing this. Letting the secret be lost... It feels worse than what happened in the first place."

The great general scratched a horn going past his own ear. "Can't say I grasp what's bothering you, Sire."

The goatee received calming strokes as its owner homed in on the problem. "You know those books about astrology I read?"

"Yes. Rather, I know of them. Can't say they caught my fancy."

"Well the older ones, traded from the empire of old, have given me some of the greatest insights about the stars. And yet they always speak of how other writers and scholars and texts inspired them, and it makes me curious to see those words or diagrams in context."

Dovah laughed, without any malice. "Never much of a book person myself, but even I know you'd have a hard time finding everything written at the empire's height."

"Exactly," sighed Aslaud, "and I've tried. I've had some success when tracking down those of monsters, but for human texts it is as seeking a speck of chaff in a hundred silos of grain. The Emperors of Constantinople may have allowed an envoy into their archives once, but those haughty crusaders now guard their secrets jealously. So I must conclude that knowledge lost to the world."

Rather than bowing his head in defeat, instead he looked up, through a nearby window, to the very stars he felt robbed of the tools to understand. Dovah stood still, not unsympathetic but not yet able to relate.

"So what do the stars have to do with what you've done this night?"

"Shh!" Aslaud strained his ears for the bark of his mother's guard. It never came. "Well, the loss of knowledge to the world is a terrible thing, General. So to participate in it, no matter the topic... I'm not sure I can."

"Well if that's how you feel you can always tell the Queen in the- _mmph!_ "

Four clawed fingers clamped around Dovah's muzzle, suppressing a bleat of surprise. He felt a thumb join in on his lower jaw.

" _Shh!_ " repeated Aslaud, eyes widened in fear. When he convinced himself Dovah would remain silent, he released his grip. "No, I can never tell my mother. But... my children, perhaps. It is better the family is aware of this secret so our enemies cannot surprise them with it."

Dovah raised an eyebrow at this scheme. "If that is what you want, Aslaud, it is your decision to make."

"Make a pact!" Aslaud looked away, embarrassed.

"A pact?"

"I apologise," said Aslaud, "I know I have no power to command such an oath from you while my mother rules. I just panicked, wanted to make sure..."

A loud laugh sent Aslaud's eyes widening even further. "You think this is the first time I've had to prove my loyalty to an heir of Dreemurr by keeping secrets? Hell, your mother made a pact with me when she was younger than you!"

"She did?! What about?"

Dovah laughed even louder. "Now what good would a pact be if I told you?" He raised his hand, once again holding a small blue flame. "If you wish this secret flow forwards but not backwards, I am willing to do so, Sire."

Aslaud looked uncertain, but also grateful for the offer. Soon a blue flame appeared in his own hand, and clasped the one in Dovah's, both hands now flickering azure.

"On this night we pledge that what Prince Aslaud Dreemurr has done, that what Dovah Guerrehalts helped him conceal, shall never be discovered by Queen Laudriel, that the events of this evening shall only ever be revealed to our firstborn, or one of similar trust should it be necessary. So it is pledged."

"...so it is pledged."

The flame-shrouded hands turned orange as it was agreed, the two men smiling at the promise made.

* * *

The years passed. The horns of the Prince grew ever more curled. The goatee grew longer and longer, and after becoming the beard of the king it eventually turned silver, and then white. The red hair of the General remained exactly as it had that night. The first part of the pledge had been successful, and the second part remained dormant, until King Aslaud beheld something of great importance.

"Father, these flowers are spectacular!"

"That they are, Asgore."

Aslaud squinted a little to properly regard the results of his son's private project. A magnificent bed of flowers of a purple shade to match his wife's vibrant eyes.

"I think Bele will beam when she returns and I reveal what I have prepared for her," teased Aslaud.

"I think Mother knows the difference between which of us worked in the garden," replied Asgore, used to the teasing, "you would be best served with your tapestry of the stars."

"Yes, yes..." said Aslaud, resting a hand on his son's shoulder, and the weight of his tall, skinny stature. "My, you truly have your mother's frame. I remember when she bowled me over at our wedding feast."

"A story she has told at every one of your birthdays from that day to this," chuckled Asgore. "I doubt Toriel could ever do that to me."

"Not for lack of trying. If it was strength of will over physical size no one could match her." Aslaud looked up at the sky. "Never do wrong by that woman, Asgore, and she'll keep you straight. She's met your mother and taken her words to soul, after all."

"I can't imagine how I'd wrong her," said Asgore, fiddling with the ring on his finger, "I'd sooner scorch these flowers than allow her to come to harm."

"And what if she liked the flowers?" The question stymied Asgore, but his father just laughed. "Worry not, Son. You are in good hands, and therefore the Kingdom is in good hands."

The prince looked uncomfortable. "You speak as if your time is drawing to a close."

"Of course it is!" He laughed again in defiance of his mortality. "I tipped my hourglass long ago, knowing what it would cost. I think I got a good deal out of it. I have one regret, however."

"What's that?"

"A comet. Every fourscore years or so it streaks across the sky. The humans claim it invites ill omen and catastrophe, but it is a beautiful thing. I've seen it twice: Once as a prince, and once as a king. I could not see it when it last came, and it is next to come in five or six years. I doubt I shall make it to then. I'd have liked to see it as a father."

"Perhaps you will," said Asgore, sounding too cheerful, "I will do everything I can to-"

"Bah!" Aslaud waved a dismissing hand. "Don't get caught up in wishful thinking. I won't complain if I am there, but I think I shall not be. Or knowing how God works he'll send another damn storm to blot it from view." Father and son shared in laughter. "Speaking of my time approaching, there are things you must know, Asgore."

"Like what?" he asked. "I have spend years learning of the Kingdom and our neighbours."

"Things you must know of our family, Asgore. There is one thing. Golly, I have not dwelt on it for so long, but I pledged to pass it on."

"What is it?" Something blue caught his eye. He looked at his father's hand. "A pact?!"

"I created this story with one. It is only fitting I pass it on with one. Do you accept?"

Asgore looked uncertain, but the benign smile of his father reassured him. He summoned a blue flame of his own, and clasped.

"On this day we pledge that King Aslaud Dreemurr shall reveal the secret kept through pact with Dovah Guerrehalts many years ago, and that Prince Asgore Dreemurr shall keep this secret until he reveals it to his firstborn, or to one of similar trust. So it is pledged."

"So it is pledged."

The orange flames confirmed the promise, and father and son embraced in affection before sharing the secret.

* * *

A few more years. A new king and queen. A beautiful comet. A sense of ill omen coming true in an unexpected form. An important question from a subordinate to his leader.

"Are you ever gonna finish with that thing?"

"Patience, captain."

"Patience is for the younguns, I'm on my fifth century!"

"That is 'young' in my books, Gerson."

A fuzzy hand was polishing a deep orange blade, longer than its owner was tall, rubbing a chunk of pumice rock along its edge. At long last Dovah deemed it sharp enough, threw the rock in a bucket and picked up the massive sword, threatening to stab a hole in the roof. Satisfied with the heft of his weapon of choice, it pomptly vanished.

"Dunno why ya bother sharpening a magic sword anyhow," muttered the turtle. "Can't ya just imagine it being super sharp?"

"I can," said Dovah patiently, "but the physical act of sharpening it helps perfect my image of it, leaves it more stable and potent when I summon it."

"You should picked a hammer," said Gerson, allowing an emerald hammer to flash into existence resting on his shoulder. "Don't need any intricate picturing of the thing's construction, just gotta imagine 'Heavy enough to knock your head off'!"

"It works for you," admitted Dovah, smiling. "And a style you're comfortable with is more effective."

"Dang right it is! So, we ready to bust those humans?"

The smile faded. "We're as ready as we can be. Therefore, victory will be a miracle, rather than impossible."

Gerson's own cocky attitude faded. "...yeah. I heard what happened to our scouts. Townsfolk think they're just waitin' for the right moment."

"Indeed..." Goat and turtle stared at the floor. "It's been an honour training, young Boom."

"I ain't young! An' we've been sparring for fifty years!"

The indignation swept away the weight on their hearts, and Dovah burst out into laughter, and Gerson accompanied him. It didn't last long, the warmth of the camaraderie soon re-subsumed by ice.

"Tomorrow, I'll be directing the battle as best I can. You stick by King Asgore. Should be easy enough to protect your friend. In my stead you will be acting leader of his retinue, and Captain of his Royal Guard. When the worst happens-"

"Think you mean _if_ the worst happens'," insisted Gerson, pointlessly.

"... _if_ the worst happens. Consider those appointments permanent. Keep Asgore clear of danger, withdraw to the castle, assist in evacuation if no humans are nearby. Understood?"

"...yeah." Gerson turned to enter the castle and find his new ward.

"Gerson?"

"Hmm?" He turned back, puzzled as to why Dovah was holding a blue flame in his hand.

"I thought after Asgore, I might settle down, have a family. Looks like that isn't panning out. But I pledged to share this secret, and you have my trust. Interested?"

Gerson's yellow eyes widened in surprise. Then he spat into his leathery hand and grappled the flame. He failed to extinguish it.

"Ain't no good at fire magic, sorry."

Dovah smiled one last time. "On this day we pledge that Dovah Guerrehalts will reveal the secret he made with Aslaud Dreemurr. That Gerson Boom will protect that secret until he chooses to reveal it to one other person he trusts. So it is pledged."

"So it's pledged!" The flames dried away Gerson's spit.

"Oh, and Gerson?"

"Yeah?"

"Writing counts. Keep it out of your journals."

"Dangit!"

The brothers-in-arms shared a final evening of bonding.

* * *

Lifetimes passed. The citizens of the kingdom looked up at the same rocky sky, never changing. Plans were made, plans were stumbled into, but committed to once made. Some careers were accidental, others were forced into by sheer determination. And a decision was made.

"I think I'll have two sugars with my tea, sir!"

"Very well, lieutenant."

Asgore placed a large blue mug on the table, sipping from his own floral china cup. An equally blue hand took the mug, and Undyne respectfully drank.

"It was a lovely service", mused Asgore, "I think they recounted Argie's life wonderfully."

"Yes, sir," agreed Undyne. "And he'd fallen down a while ago. I think everyone's relieved he got away at last."

"Hmm." He added extra milk to his own tea. "Do you know why I've asked you to come to my house?"

Undyne looked at her cup, then allowed herself to speak. "Well with Argie gone, you probably need a new Captain of the Guard, right?"

"Correct, Undyne."

"And..." Undyne's intuition failed her. "What, you want me to persuade Gerson to do it again? Well of everyone in the Underground I'm probably the best, but you might as well ask me to break the barrier. I'm up for doing that, though!"

Asgore looked surprised. "Goodness, lieutenant, you're well off track with that guess. When Gerson decides he's retired, only Gerson can decide when he's no longer retired. Nobody could shift him, not even... Well, anyway. Undyne, I would like to offer you the position of Captain of the Royal Guard."

A white floral doily was stained brown, for Asgore had neglected to check if Undyne was drinking at the moment.

"Hyeuou hwant hckme-" Undyne cleared her throat. "You want me to be Captain?! But surely Hephaestus would take precedent by seniority, sir."

"Well I considered him," admitted Asgore, "but then he made it clear he was perfectly happy in his position sharing patrol duty with Flopsy. There was no need to upset that, so now I'm asking you."

"But I..." Undyne was unusually quiet. "Am I ready? Am I good enough?"

She found her hand wrapped in warm fur. "Undyne. You've been training with me for years. You keep tripping me up when we spar. You stopped learning things from me that weren't about flowers a long time ago. In fact I've been learning things from you. The only reason I haven't gotten much better at the piano is my fingers are too wide for it. Your colleagues defer to you naturally, and you lead with discipline, but also fairness. I've watched you grow up under my guidance, and I'm confident you'll keep the Guard well organised for its purpose. I am proud of your progress, and this is my way of showing it. Are you willing to do it?"

A single yellow eye met two purple ones. Then Undyne seized her mug, drained its contents, then slammed it on the table. "Hell yeah! I won't let you down, Asgore!"

Asgore beamed at his ex-student, reaching over to pat her shoulder. "Excellent, Captain. This calls for a celebration. Gerson...?"

"Huh?!"

"Wa ha ha! Congrats, Cap!"

The withered turtle hobbled out of the kitchen, three tall glasses of a pale green liquid on a plate in his hands, plopped it on the table and pulled up a seat. Soon the old friends were busy making her laugh at this story or that about Asgore, and even a couple about Gerson himself when he'd decided it was all getting a bit one sided.

"So then I says to Ol' Stumpy, 'Ain't my fault you forgot a belt for your pants'! And then he punched me, an' that's why this eye don't work so good anymore."

"Fuhuhuhuhu!" Undyne finished her Sea Tea. Asgore smiled at his friends, not wanting to laugh at Gerson's story, even though Gerson had been uproariously laughing about Asgore's.

"Damn," continued Undyne, "if I'd known I'd get some dirt on Gerson outta this Captain gig I'd have applied years ago!"

"I think the Snowdin batallion may have had trouble taking orders from a teenager," reasoned out Asgore, "it's probably best we waited until now."

"Yeah, I guess." Undyne couldn't stop grinning. "I appreciate the little party as well, you two. Feels like a proper capstone, doesn't it."

"It does..." said Asgore, his own smile fading.

"Uh, you okay, Fluffybuns?" probed Gerson.

"Captain Undyne, I would like to share a story with you."

"Huh?" said the two cold-blooded figures at the table.

"Long ago, my father shared a story with me, and I pledged to share it only with one I truly trust. I'd intended it to be my first born, but..." all three of them looked at a fragment on the mantlepiece, a broken shard of a cup with a green 'A' on it. Asgore cleared his throat. "...well. I think you would be a fine person to share this story with."

"Uhh, okay," said Undyne, sounding conflicted, "does that mean Gerson should leave now?"

"No. You know it, don't you, Gerson? Dovah told you?"

"...yeah, he did."

Asgore nodded approvingly. "I knew if he told anyone, it would have been you. So I see no need to keep it from you. When I learned this story I made a pledge of fire, but that's one of those traditions we did not bring with us Underground, and I know you don't have fire magic."

Undyne and Asgore looked at each other. Gerson looked down at his wrinkled hand.

"Captain Undyne, do you promise to only reveal this story to those you trust as kin?"

"...yes." Her steady voice belied her curiosity. Gerson kept an eye on his old friend.

"Very well. Long ago, even before my father Aslaud took the throne, his mother Queen Laudriel ruled the kingdom. Her husband the Prince Consort Loras died in an accident not long after Aslaud's birth, and though he would grow to be as tall as I am, it was rumoured this was why he was always very thin for a Boss Monster. I inherited my mother's stature to compensate."

Both Undyne and Gerson were paying rapt attention to Asgore's story.

"Given his lack of physical prowess, as a prince my father was quite the scholar, especially of the skies and the stars. Every free moment was in the royal librarby, or at his writing desk beseeching books from afar. He did not neglect the duties of preparing for the statecraft all leaders must study, but they were a distant second place to his celestial passion."

"Hah! Like father like son!" barked Undyne. "If you got fired, you'd be fine if you could keep your flowers."

Asgore nodded in agreement. "Anyway, one evening my father was at the librarby, working late. A diplomatic envoy from a human kingdom was coming the next day, and he'd have no free time for his hobbies, so I suppose he was getting a last taste of it. In any case, he left with a stack of books and scrolls in one hand, and a naked flame in the other. But so busy was he with not dropping his paperwork he wasn't looking where he was going. And that was when..."

"That was when..." Undyne urged him on.

"That was when he accidentally set a tapestry of his father Loras alight."

"...what."

"Well, you have to understand," said Asgore, "it may seem trivial to you or I, but my grandmother loved my grandfather, and things that reminded her of him." He gestured over to the broken cup as an example. "And though he quickly doused the flame, the damage could not be covered up. Fearing her wrath, my father sought out General Dovah Guerrehalts, leader of the army, for help. Dovah didn't hesitate. He slipped into the slumbering town around the castle, to an embroiderer he knew liked to replicate the royal tapestries, and hastily bought a replica of that piece. He and Aslaud switched them around, and hid the scorched original in an old storage room not used for centuries. I believe my grandmother never learned what happened that night. But my father never liked destruction of knowledge, even of something so petty. So he and Dovah swore to pass it on to family or kin, to keep the story alive."

"And that is what I've done today. I am sorry if it is not as exciting as you imagined."

Undyne had a strange look on her face. Asgore realised she was thinking hard about something.

"You... you..." she suddenly rounded on Gerson. "You lied to me, Leatherhead!"

Asgore looked at his friend as well, utterly nonplussed. "Gerson, you told her already...?"

"You told me King Aslaud stole some royal jewels from his mom's crown and replaced them with glass to pay off some noble lady he'd been having an affair with and claimed she was knocked up, and he only realised the truth when he didn't start aging, but was afraid those jewels could be used as a claim on the throne! You said it could have started a civil war even if we got back to the surface!"

Gerson shrugged, unphased. "Forgot the real story centuries ago. So I made up something a little more entertaining. Wa ha ha!"

Asgore wore a rare frown. "Gerson, you'd treat what Dovah told you so lightly?"

"Ain't my fault he didn't make me promise to remember it properly!" He rested his hand on Undyne's. "Kiddo, the way I figure it, havin' a family story is cool like that, but I reckon the fun is in sharin' it, not what's in it. An' that tapestry an' its fake are both long gone by now, so what's it matter?"

"Well I think keeping the story alive was what my father intended," said Asgore.

"An' you've done that too! Best of both worlds. 'sup to Undyne here what's more important."

Yellow eye met yellow eye. Then blue fist met leathery olive head in a vicious noogie.

"Next time you forget a story, just admit it, you old coot!"

"Okay, okay! Just lemme go!" Asgore finally burst out laughing.

* * *

A few more years passed. The impossible happened. Then a different impossible thing happened. Then a third impossible thing happened. And through all this, the pledge before the comet held fast.

"You're really not gonna tell me, Dad?"

"I am sorry, Asriel. Old traditions may be old, but I stand by them."

"Aww..."

Asgore's reborn son pouted on a rug before the fireplace, his human sibling comforting him.

"I am sorry," repeated Asgore, "but I pledged to my father I would only tell one person, and I never thought this would happen to me."

"But you said it's a father to son thing, right?"

"...yes. But I don't want to dishonour my pledge."

Asriel scowled at the refusal. The doorbell rang, Frisk got up to answer it. A yellow razor sharp grin entered the room, followed by the rest of Undyne.

"Hey Asgore! Hi there, Prince Asriel! What's up?"

"...I did not pledge," continued Asgore, "to stop you from learning the story from others. Howdy Undyne. Would you like to tell Asriel the story I told you the day you became Captain of the Guard?"

Undyne's grin shrank slightly in surprise as Frisk returned to the room. "Uh, wasn't I supposed to share that with those like kin, Fluffybuns?"

"Well? Are we kin or not?"

Undyne looked at the eyes. Magical Purple, Emerald Green, Steely Grey. The answer was easy.

"Alright, listen up, punks!" she barked, Asriel disengaging from the sudden hug he'd given his father. "This is the story of how a tapestry was the key to saving the kingdom from civil war and destruction..."

Asgore watched the enthusiastic recital with pride, silently glad his pledge also didn't forbid corrections in the story that could wait for later.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


End file.
